


An Image Of Truth

by helens78



Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Unrequited Love, first fic in this fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-16
Updated: 2010-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:17:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a terrible habit and he knows it, he <em>knows</em> this needs to stop, but right now Ray isn't angry with <em>him</em>, not even angry with himself for a change, and the taste of <em>need</em> all over Ray's tongue is more than Fraser can walk away from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Image Of Truth

**Author's Note:**

> My first _Due South_ fic, in which angst more or less launched itself off the keys at me and said NO REALLY YOU WANT TO BE WRITING ANGST. So it goes!

Ray gets his arms around Fraser and kisses him, kisses him like he's drowning all over again and needs the air, and Fraser resists that for about three and a half seconds before he pushes Ray into the wall, pinning him flat against it and kissing back. It's a terrible habit and he knows it, he _knows_ this needs to stop, but right now Ray isn't angry with _him_, not even angry with himself for a change, and the taste of _need_ all over Ray's tongue is more than Fraser can walk away from.

He reaches up and grabs Ray by the wrists, putting those up against the wall, too, and Ray moans under Fraser's lips. His body's still taut, thrumming just under the skin with all that contained energy, but he wants this--_wants_ Fraser to be the bulwark that holds his anger back. Ray wants so _much_\--Fraser backs away a step, not enough to lose his grip on Ray's wrists, just enough that he can breathe.

"Ben," Ray mumbles, wrists tugging against Fraser's hands, "Ben, _c'mon_\--"

"Stay," Fraser whispers. He doesn't open his eyes. He opens his hands, leaving Ray's wrists pinned to the wall, and when Ray doesn't move, he backs up. By the time he gets his eyes open, Ray's are closed. It isn't surprising. It gives Fraser room enough to frown, which is welcome right now.

He's got more layers to deal with than Ray does, so he gets undressed first. Sam Browne, belt, lanyard, everything put aside neatly on the kitchen table. They won't need the surface this time; if this gets that far, Fraser will push Ray off to the bedroom, and Ray will probably go without complaint. Jacket. Boots. Braces. Trousers. It's almost mechanical by now, and Fraser can be very quick.

When he's down to his undershirt and his boxers, he looks back up at Ray. Ray's started fidgeting, hands clenched into fists, knuckles bumping back against the wall in a rhythm that gets louder every second: _bumbumbumbumbumbumBAMBAMBAM--_

Fraser comes back and slides his hands over Ray's wrists again, ball chain of Ray's bracelet warm but hard under Fraser's hand. Fraser pushes both of Ray's wrists together, left over right so he doesn't have to keep feeling Ray's bracelet biting into him, and he holds both wrists there with one hand while his other hand moves down--fingers stroking Ray's cheek for just a moment before he puts his hand over Ray's mouth. Ray still doesn't open his eyes.

"I said stay," Fraser points out gently, and Ray nods under his grip. Fraser takes his hand off Ray's mouth and slides it behind Ray, between the wall and Ray's waist; Ray arches up against him, groaning all over again. Fraser leans forward and kisses Ray harder this time, holding him still and steady.

If Ray were paying attention, if Ray _could_ pay attention right now, he might notice that Fraser's not just holding Ray up, he's eating up Ray's need like he's starving for it. Or for anything at all, really, anything Ray's got to give, any of the needs Ray lets him fill. Ray never notices, and Fraser's stopped trying to make more out of this than it is. This is how things are. It's better than how things used to be, better than they were the first time, anyway.

He stops those thoughts in their tracks and moves back to holding Ray down, kissing him while Ray tries to push off the wall and rub up against him. Ray's kisses are getting more frantic, his arms pulling harder against Fraser's grip, and when Ray manages to wrench one arm loose, that's it: Fraser gets both of his own arms free and shoves Ray bodily--carefully--into the wall.

"Ray." It'll take more than once to get his attention. "Ray." He doesn't need to raise his voice. "Ray." He doesn't need to wait for eye contact. "Ray." He just has to short-circuit whatever thoughts are floating around Ray's head. "Ray." Ray snaps out of it all at once--body loosening a little, eyes opening up--and he blows out a breath, loud and harsh. "Would you like to continue this in the bedroom?"

Ray winces and looks away, and there, _that_\--that's what makes Fraser imagine slamming his hand into the wall, that's what makes Fraser imagine grabbing Ray by the shirt and saying _stop being so god-damned ashamed of this_. But Fraser's mind can't stick to that sentence; in his thoughts, he's already cleaning up the outburst, replacing it with an image of what he's really going to do--stand here, stay still, wait for Ray to get himself together and nod.

"Yeah," he tells Fraser. He squints, but he meets Fraser's eyes through it. "Yeah. C'mon."

Once they're in the bedroom, the rest of their clothes are short work. Ray's too impatient to let Fraser do the preparation--he grabs the lube off the nightstand and works himself open. In another context, that could be quite erotic; as it stands, Fraser wonders how long Ray expects this to take. Fraser never used to want this to be fast, but tonight maybe it'll be better for both of them if he is.

He knows where Ray keeps the condoms, and as Ray rolls facedown on the bed, he takes one and sheathes himself with it. He climbs up, between Ray's legs, and the thought of being quick about this dissipates. Ray's too tense for that to work; it would be like driving into stone, pressing himself against granite. They've done it that way a few times; Fraser's not interested in repeating it.

So he slides down the bed, putting his hands on Ray's hips, holding him down when Ray tries to squirm out from under Fraser's grip. He wishes Ray hadn't been so quick with the lube; the kind Ray uses is mostly tasteless, but not entirely. His thumbs slide across Ray's cheeks, drawing them slightly apart, and Ray goes utterly rigid as Fraser draws his tongue up the dark line of Ray's cleft.

"Ben--Fraser--hey, no, you--oh, God," Ray pants. He brings his arms up, rests his forehead on them. "God. I should've--"

"You should stop talking," Fraser murmurs, then winces at himself. _Be kind. You won't lose anything by being kind right now._

It isn't true, not really, so he goes back to work, licking back down and taking slow, smooth passes across Ray's hole. Ray shivers, moans again, Fraser hears his breath hitch up in his chest once, and then--he _breathes_, finally, breathes in a little bit and then exhales, slow and smooth until his body's loose under Fraser's hands, loose under his tongue, letting Fraser touch him and lick him and open him up.

He's ready, then. Fraser could drag this out, but there isn't much point. He sits up and draws the back of his hand over his chin, wiping away the lube. Ray is boneless under him, head still pillowed on his arms, and Fraser stretches out across his body, thighs tucked between Ray's.

"Yeah," Ray mumbles, just loud enough for Fraser to hear. Fraser nods, and then he's moving in, closing his eyes against the aching thrill of this--even an imperfect connection is still a connection, and he keeps going until Ray's got all of him, every inch, everything Fraser can offer.

Ray stretches his arms out above his head, and Fraser stretches his out, too, sliding his fingers through Ray's. Ray lets him do it; this time he holds on.

It's enough to get Fraser moving. He starts to rock, gentle at first, easy, the kind of rhythm that's meant to keep Ray breathing soft and slow--and he speeds up only when he needs it to be _more_, faster, when he can't hold back his own need anymore. It isn't all for Ray, much as he tries to convince himself it is.

Ray's moving, though, pushing back against him, and the more Fraser speeds up, the more Ray demands out of him. "C'mon," Ray murmurs, and then he's growling out, "c'mon, Ben, gimme, let me--_c'mon_\--"

_Give me. Let me. Let you what, Ray?_ But Fraser knows Ray won't explain, will claim he didn't mean anything by it, so he doesn't ask. He rests his head against Ray's shoulder and keeps going, pushing into Ray's body as if he can get closer to Ray just through this. Ray's fingers are clutching Fraser's as if he _wants_ Fraser closer, and it's almost enough--it's all almost enough--

"Just a little--just wait, lemme--" Ray wrenches one of his hands away, tries to push up; Fraser lets him, backing off and holding himself up above Ray's body, arms extended, hips and thighs still driving him forward, driving him in. Ray gets a hand beneath himself, and with a few fast pulls he's gasping, ass clenching tight around Fraser's cock, coming with moans hidden against his arm.

That's it, then. Fraser sets his jaw and moves in hard and deep, with purpose now, just fucking Ray until his body overtakes his brain and he, too, comes with a gasp, with moans he doesn't want to share.

He backs away when he's finished, glancing around Ray's bed for a towel. When he doesn't find one, he pads off quietly to the bathroom, running the water until it warms up and he can clean up.

Ray's turned over on his side when Fraser emerges from the bathroom; Fraser sighs, trying not to be too audible about it. "How are you feeling?" he asks quietly.

"I'm good," Ray says, and he does sound far better than he did when all this started, when he was snapping at everything Fraser said. He sounds all right.

"I'll just--I'll be going, then," Fraser says, and he can hear it in his voice, he knows how _not_ all right he sounds, but he needs to dress, and most of his clothes are out in the kitchen, still, and if it takes him a few more moments to compose himself than it takes Ray, well, Ray must surely be used to that by now.

He takes his underwear back to the kitchen and starts the process of getting dressed, far more lengthy than undressing. It's the boots, mostly, and the buttons, and when he's finally back in uniform, he can feel his spine drawing itself back up.

"Hey--Frase--" Fraser glances back; Ray's standing in the doorway, dressed again. "Lemme give you a ride."

The uniform's not enough, apparently, because Fraser thinks of several crude retorts he could make in response to that statement.

"Thank you kindly, Ray," he says instead, and once Ray's grabbed his keys, Fraser follows him out the door.

_-end-_


End file.
